


Fallen treats

by sweariwouldnt



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU - childhood friends gone WRONG until they go VERY RIGHT, Friends to Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Halloween, M/M, Miscommunication, Swearing, Trick or Treating, harry with cat ears, harry with glasses, non-canon, silly teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2019-01-17 11:52:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12365184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweariwouldnt/pseuds/sweariwouldnt
Summary: Harry hates both Halloween and Louis Tomlinson.He does, however, love his little sister a lot.Hence why he puts on his ears and his tail and joins her, her friends and their big brother for a round of trick or treating.





	Fallen treats

**Author's Note:**

> "Have I mentioned, I fucking hate Halloween."
> 
> I got this as a prompt on a tumblr prompt ask thing and me, a dedicated Halloween hater, suddenly found myself with a silly fic full of all the cliches I never thought I'd write.

“Have I mentioned, I fucking hate Halloween.”

It comes out with a louder and more forceful tone than Harry normally dares to use with his mother. To emphasise his point, he slams the book he was reading onto the table, avoiding his mother’s eyes.

“Harry!” Anne gasps. “Language!”

Harry pushes his glasses up his nose with his index finger (a nervous twitch he’s had since he was a child) and makes a tutting sound. “Sorry, mum, I _absolutely_ hate Halloween.”

“But you love your little sister.”

Harry rolls his eyes and pushes his glasses up again, though they really have no further they could go. “I do, very much, which is also another reason I completely refuse.”

Anne crosses her arms and gives Harry a bored look. “And why is that? Has the meaning of love changed suddenly? Did someone online say that love now means keeping people from feeling good?”

Harry is about to tell his mum that yes, some people online definitely do consider edging as a part of a loving act, but catches himself before he makes this worse. “Ha, ha. Very funny, mum. And no, no one online said anything. I just think that as a good, loving big brother, I don’t want to be a part of making her think trashing people’s places or participating in what is initially American consumerism is…”

Anne huffs and throws her hands in the air, rolling her eyes to stop her son before he gets into a proper rant. “Fine! Be like that then! But you get to tell it to her yourself.”

“Why can’t you go, or dad? She’s your kid. I’m sure dad would love to trick people.” Harry likes to think himself as way more mature than other 17-year olds, but he’s definitely feeling his age now, moaning to his mother.

“Because,” Anne looks at Harry with a bored look, “she said she wants to go with you. Said she reckons you might like fun.”

Harry is about to explain that he likes fun a plenty, his fun just looks different to what it might to an 8-year old, or anyone in his family for that matter. He doesn’t get a chance as the said 8-year old then dashes into the kitchen. The pointy black hat on her head is a little too big and it’s falling on her eyes, making her constantly have to push it up. The little witch’s cape is also just a tad too big, lopsided off her left shoulder. She’s holding her red plastic rake on her shoulder and one of her many toy tea pots is balanced on the spikey end. Harry feels endeared against his will.

Hazel looks at her mother and then at her brother, sensing the tense atmosphere. “So?” She asks slowly, sounding a little deflated. “Are you coming with me?”

Harry lets out a submissive sigh, already knowing how this is going to end. “Well don’t you look lovely.”

Hazel looks unimpressed. “You mean scary. I look scary.”

“Yes, Hay, very scary,” Harry nods and feels Anne’s eyes on him. It’s no use really, he can already feel himself give in. “Are you sure you wouldn’t want to go with anyone else?”

“Nooo,” Hazel fixes her hat again. “You’re most fun.”

Anne stifles a laugh behind her hand.

“And anyway, Daisy and Phoebe are coming with their brother, and you’re the only brother I have, so you have to come.”

Harry gives her a very fake smile and then turns to look at his mum. “Funny how you forgot to mention that, _mother_.”

“Pfft,” Anne waves her hand. “They’re lovely girls, you love them.”

“Their brother is _not_ a lovely girl, though.”

“What are you wearing?” Hazel gives Harry a once over. “I don’t know that costume. Are you a scarecrow? Are you going to take the big rake?”

“I’m not…” Harry starts, offended, but shuts up then as he looks at Hazel, standing by the kitchen door in her little witch’s outfit, the tea pot swinging slightly on her red rake. “Suppose I need an outfit, don’t I?”

Hazel taps her finger to her mouth, tapping her foot to the floor as if she’s contemplating carefully. Her eyes then lit up, and she lifts her finger up as if she’d just had an idea. “Aha!” Hazel walks up to Harry, taking him by the hand and leading him out of the kitchen.

“I have the best idea,” she tells him as she’s taking him up the stairs. “I’m the best little sister you have.”

“You’re the _only_ little sister I have.”

Hazel gives him a quick look. “Why would you need any more? You’ve got the best.”

Harry can’t really argue with that.

They enter Hazel’s messy room. Mew, their aloof black cat who for some reason worships Hazel, is snuggled up on her bed.

“Mewmew, I’m sorry to say, but you can’t come with me today after all,” Hazel explains to the cat.

“You were going to take her with you? To trick or treating?” Harry feels concerned and adds yet another reason to his mental note for hating Halloween – animal abuse. Maybe it’s not a rational reason, but Harry is very fond of his irrational hate.

“Do you even know what witches are, Harry? How many witches have you seen without a cat?” Hazel queries as she rummages through her drawers.

“Technically I’ve never seen any witches, so…”

“Ha!” Hazel pulls something out of the drawer. “Here we go!”

Looking proud, she’s holding what seems to be a black headband with cat ears.

Harry feels his insiders turn around and fly all over the place. “Uhm, Hay.”

“You need a tail, too,” Hazel’s shoves the headband to Harry’s hand, looking around her room. “Oh!” She takes a few running steps to the end of her bed, where she has a long lime green soft toy snake curled up near Mew. “Cats can be more than one colour, right?”

Harry starts shaking his head to tell her no, no way he’s wearing the ears and the tail. Unfortunately at the same time, Mew stirs and looks at Hazel, making a vague nodding movement before she yawns.

Hazel nods happily, making it blatantly clear she judges the cat’s opinion way higher than Harry’s.

“You have to wear black clothes, though. Something fuzzy.”

Harry’s first thought is that he _does_ have a rather fitting nan-made black sweater and skinny jeans that he could pull of as cat-like. His immediate second thought is that Louis Tomlinson is about to see him with too small cat ears on his head and a green toy snake pinned to his bum.

“You’re the best brother,” Hazel sighs happily and hugs Harry. It’s almost as if she can read Harry’s mind.

Harry sighs, going to his room and changing into his black fuzzy sweater, considering Hay truly is a wee witch.

\---

Harry and Hazel are waiting for the Tomlinson twins and their brother at the end of their road, in a crossroads with the road where the Tomlinson house is. It’s dark, the Autumn getting closer to changing into Winter; the air is chilly and moist, and Harry feels like a very in-character cat as he shivers at the thought of getting wet. There’s three figures approaching them from the dark, leaves on the pavement rustling from their steps. The twins are dressed up what seems to be as little zombies. Hazel runs up to them, tea pot swinging away, as she hugs both Daisy and Phoebe.

“Is that an anaconda in your pants or are you just happy to see me?” Louis smirks as the girls pay their brothers no mind, gushing over each other’s outfits.

Harry stands up straighter, adjusting his cat ears. He can’t think of a good comeback, he never can with this utter twat, so he does the next best thing and hisses like a pissed off cat.

Louis just laughs loudly.

“I don’t even know what your costume is supposed to be,” Harry huffs.

Louis looks shocked. “Oh, come on Styley!”

He knows how much Harry hates the nickname, one Louis has been calling him for as long as they’ve known each other, which is probably two weeks less than how long Harry has been in this world.

“I’m Wally, come on,” Louis gestures at his blue jeans and red-and-white striped shirt.

Harry looks at him, still not getting it.

“From Where’s Wally!” Louis points at his hat with a fuzzy red tip. “The books?”

Harry finally gets it, nodding in acknowledgement. “Not very scary.”

“Clearly you’ve never seen a frustrated Daisy not finding the character on a book. Mayhem, I tell you.” Louis looks at the three girls, smiling softly. “Hay looks cute.”

“She’s my sister.”

Louis looks back at Harry, a smile playing on his lips. “What, so of course she’s cute?”

“No,” Harry huffs annoyed. “I mean she’s my sister. You can’t have her.”

“Why would I want her? I already have five sisters.”

Harry would really like to point out that stealing a sister would not be outside of Louis’ realm of stealing things that actually belong to Harry, but he’s more mature than that. “Wally has glasses. Your costume is missing,” he says instead.

“You could lend me yours? They’re black and thick.”

“What, so you can make fun of me again?”

“Huh?”

“Like you did when I first got glasses. You tried them on and went on and on about how bloody blind I must be, how they made your eyes hurt and head ache,” Harry tries to be nonchalant (he is _totally_ over the incident, after all) but somehow it comes out as snappy.

Louis tuts. “Oh come on, that was like… What, almost ten years ago?”

“Eight,” Harry mutters quietly. “Come on, trolls, let’s go. Treats await,” he then yells to the girls and they set on their Halloween round.

“We’re not trolls, Harry!” Daisy tells him sternly.

“We’re quite obviously zombies,” Phoebe adds.

“Yeah, Harry,” Hazel sighs. “You have to stop embarrassing me.”

Harry can hear Louis chortle next to him. He considers how much damage and pain could a snake tail really inflict.

“I _know_ you are zombies, I was just trying to address you all three at once. Come on, one witch and two zombies - that just didn’t quite have the right feel to it.”

“So you went with trolls? When you could’ve done like, I don’t know, Ghoul Gang or Scary crowd? Tricksters? Treaters?” Louis looks at Harry incredulously.

“Fine, you shepherd them then,” Harry quips when they get to the first house.

The area they all live in is rather a tightknit community, families that have known each other for ages; it’s the type of old-fashioned English community where neighbours drop by for tea unannounced, where no one ever runs out of baking products as someone can spare some, where families become friends and heavens forbid their children suddenly stop being friends for some silly reason.

It’s an area where a trick or treat round will take hours, as not visiting one neighbour’s house would probably cause a small scandal and weeks of talks on the local shop at who did whom wrong.

Harry and Louis wait a bit further away from the door, watching the girls get showered with candy from the older couple living in number 16.

“Harry, Louis! Come get your treats!” Mr Miller waves to them. He looks older than Harry remembers him being.

“That’s fine, Mr Miller, but thank you.”

“We’ll just raid the girls’ treats later!” Louis tells him, causing the old man to chuckle and nod.

“I mean, that’s what you’re doing as well, right?” Louis then turns to look at Harry carefully. “I mean, I was totally planning on to, but I don’t need your superior moral to call the coppers on me or anything.”

“I’m here in fucking cat ears and a snake pinned to my arse,” Harry looks at Louis. “Hay’s lucky if she has anything left after I’m done taking what’s rightfully mine.”

Louis nods approvingly. They go back on the walkway, with the girls running to the next door. They walk a little behind them, in silence.

“You don’t think someone wouldn’t actually give treats? Like, I have no tricks thought out,” Harry starts hesitantly.

“Hello, it’s me? Of course I’ve got tricks thought out.” Louis winks. “The girls have loo roll under those clothes.”

Harry nods approvingly, then reconsiders. “I mean, of course I don’t condone trashing anyone’s place or making a mess, but like, if someone is mean to our sisters…”

“…You can come off your highest of high horses and give your approval, I get it.”

Harry stops still. “I’m not… I’m not on a high horse. You keep making me sound like, I don’t know, like I’m thinking I’m so much better than anyone else and just sit home and judge people for not being as fucking proper as me.”

Louis looks at Harry. “Well, aren’t you?” He tries to keep his tone light, but there’s something else in it too.

“No!” Harry yelps. “It’s been, what, ten minutes and you’ve now made a remark twice, suggesting that I’m somehow really fucking full of myself. I knew this would be a total disaster.”

Louis’ face hardens as he looks at Harry, crossing his arms. “So, what are you going to do?”

“Not much I can do, is there?” Harry snaps and nods towards the girls. “Promised Hay she’d get a round.”

“Oh, I can look after her too. No need to stay here and feel offended.” Louis’ voice has a new tone of bitterness. “Yeh, _Harry_ , why don’t you just get mad and fucking leave and disappear. Not like it’d be the first time.”

“COME ON!” One of the girls then shouts loudly, pecking the boys to keep up.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Harry grits through his teeth as they carry on walking.

“Oh, nothing, nothing,” Louis says lightly. “Maybe you can just think about it for a few years. It’s not like you think it’s _unfair_ to get pissed off about something and then just stop talking, is it? Given you tend to do that.”

Harry inhales and exhales slowly, briefly closing his eyes. “Let’s do just that then. Not talk.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

“I said fine already.”

“And I said fine too.”

“So we agree.”

“Clearly. For once. This doesn’t seem like not talking.”

“Shut up.”

Harry says nothing, but breaks into a jog then, catching up with the girls, now standing on the door of the house number 22, where The Jones’ youngest one is reaching up to place candy to the three baskets held briskly in front of her.

Harry’s not even a little bit surprised at hearing Louis catch up with the four of them too. He makes a case of talking to the girls, gushing over how full their treat baskets already are. Louis seems to do the same, chatting to Hazel and asking how her mum and dad, and of course their brilliant cat, all are doing. Harry wants to push a lollipop up his nose.

They make their way to the end of the street. Harry’s figured they’ve got five streets worth of going around, and they’ve just about reached the furthest distance from their own streets. The girls ring the doorbell at the Woodcock’s house. Their son, James, was a few years older than Harry and Louis – they used to be good pals, growing up, until the few years’ age difference became too much – Harry and Louis being just kids in James’ eyes. He’d left for uni a few years back.

“Oh hello!” Doreen, the mum, sounds sincerely delighted as she opens the door. “Look what the cat dragged in! Or, well, I guess the cat came with you,” she smiles as she looks at Harry. She bends down to chat with the girls, and their little terrier Winston (looking even more ancient than when they were kids, and he was ancient then already) comes to the door too.

“I see you’re not dressed as each other this time,” Doreen winks as she stands up and looks at Harry and Louis. “That was hilarious, then! You must’ve been, what? Ten?”

“Eleven,” Louis tells her politely, smiling. “Think it’d be harder now, with Harry here having gotten so tall.”

“Well, it was very impressive back then. Couldn’t tell a difference!” Doreen pats both of them on the shoulder before she bids them farewell, sending love to their mums.

“You dressed up as each other?” Hazel says, stunned, looking up at Harry. Daisy and Phoebe are looking up as well, eyes big.

“You used to be friends?” Daisy’s voice is quite high.

Harry can’t help but take a side glance at Louis, feeling oddly vulnerable at seeking help or emotional support from his accomplice in being put on the spot – who at the same time he feels very distant from. He feels relieved seeing Louis has his eyes on him, too.

“Well, kids,” Louis starts like he’s about to start an enticing story. He’s always been very good at that. “We were about eleven, and we did dress up as each other.”

“Thought it was a brilliant idea,” Harry remembers and can’t help but smile a little.

“It was,” Louis says, “it was my idea of course.”

“Of course,” Phoebe says, sounding in awe of her older brother.

“There used to be a fancy dress shop in town, so we went in, got these hilarious wigs…”

“I got one that was just like, a big, black curly one…”

“…And I got one that was like, for an old lady…”

“But why? Louis didn’t have grey hair, did he?” Hazel looks confused.

Louis chuckles. “No, Hay, not like _that_ old of a lady, just like you know what you nan has? Brown, short.”

“Boy hair,” Hazel scrunches her nose in dislike.

“Yeh, boy hair,” Harry laughs. “And then we took each other’s clothes and put them on, and done!”

“Best Halloween costume ever,” Louis nods.

“We need to do that next year!” Daisy shrieks excitedly.

“But we always look like each other?” Phoebe sounds unsure.

“Oh! If I dress up as you two, it’s all the same anyway, and you dress up as me,” Hazel suggests after a bit of pondering.

The twins nod in unison, and start hopping along the street to the next house, excitedly planning their outfits for next year already.

“Nice ducking,” Harry tells Louis as they follow the girls. “About us being friends, I mean.”

“Thought the costume bit was a lot more exciting. Nicer.”

Harry hums in agreement. He feels a bit torn between wanting to say something about how their friendship just crumbled down, fight about it with Louis, hear Louis apologise for his behaviour and everything he put Harry through – stuff Harry feels like he might never be completely over with, things that hurt him and made him a little bit more reserved, a little bit more withdrawn. He is, however, also aware that arguing won’t help anything. He just wants to get home, feel good about having been able to make his sister and the twins happy. Despite what happened with him and Louis, he will always have a very soft spot for the rest of the Tomlinsons, basically his second family.

“Fuck!”

Harry’s train of thought is interrupted by a loud yelp from Louis. He turns around to see Louis splayed on the ground, grimacing in what seems like pain as he’s rubbing his ankle. For a moment, Harry feels paralyzed – he’s never, actually, seen Louis look that pained.

“What happened?” He then shakes himself out of the haze, kneeling down next to Louis. He looks at his ankle, swelling right in front of his eyes. “Did you slip?”

“Yeh,” Louis grits and makes another pained sound.

The girls have seen what happened and run up to them, too.

“Is it your bad ankle?” Phoebe asks, voice full of worry.

“I could kiss it better,” Daisy suggests.

Hazel looks at Harry, silently pleading for him to fix this. Fix Louis.

“Yeh, it’s the same ankle. And sorry, Daisy, love the offer but I doubt a kiss will help.”

“Do you think you can stand on it?” Harry asks as he reaches his hands out to Louis.

Louis takes his hands, pulling himself up and testingly tries to put his weight on the ankle. It gives in right away, and only thing between Louis dropping back to the ground is Harry grabbing him.

“That’s a no then,” Harry sighs, placing Louis’ hand around his shoulders and his other hand around his waist. “Do you think maybe you can hop?”

“Don’t really have much choice, do I?” Louis sighs. “Doubt you’d carry me home.”

“I’ll carry you if you can’t hop. It’s not like I’d leave you here.”

Louis doesn’t say anything to that, but he looks at Harry with a look that sort of breaks Harry’s heart again – Louis looks a little surprised, shocked, thankful; as if he honestly thinks so low of Harry. Thinks that Harry would just leave Louis out here in the cold and dark with a botched ankle.

There’s a quiet sniffling sound.

“Pheebs, love, it’s fine, don’t be sad,” Louis tells her softly as he gestures her to come give him a hug. “I hurt my ankle, but it’s alright. You girls run ahead, go do your thing, and we’ll just follow you. Harry’s going to help me, and we’ll get home, and then I’ll go see Doctor Fox, and it’ll be fine, yeah?”

Sniffling, Phoebe nods and smiles. “So we can do the full tour?”

Harry looks at Louis who nods. “Yeh, sure. Just make sure you don’t run too far ahead, that you see us all the time. No turning on corners without us!”

The girls agree in unison and run over to the next house.

Louis laughs dryly. “Think she was more upset with thinking we’d have to cut the tour short, rather than her big bruv being in pain.”

“Hmm,” Harry agrees. “Are you ok to go?”

Louis takes a few careful hopping steps and then nods. It’s slow movement, but at least Louis isn’t wincing in pain with every step.

“What did she mean, your bad ankle?” Harry then remembers.

Louis is quiet for a bit. “You don’t know?”

“Know what?” Harry furrows his brows and glances at Louis.

“Oh,” Louis sounds surprised. “Thought Anne would’ve told you.”

“Told me what?”

“I had my ankle operated?”

“When?” Harry feels concern take over him and he stops. “Why? Is it okay now?”

Louis tuts. “Clearly it’s not.”

“But, like, usually? What happened?” Harry feels so pissed off at not being told about something big like this, only to then remember every time Anne or his dad have even as much as tried to utter Louis’ name for the past years, he’s shut them up immediately, telling them sternly he does not want to hear. “Oh, no, wait. You twisted that ankle like, when we were kids, didn’t you?”

“In that forest, yeah. And we can keep moving, you know.” Louis tries to pull Harry along with him as he starts hopping away.

Harry complies. “We ran away then, didn’t we? Why did we run away?”

Louis picks his brain for a bit. “I think it was when your mum got preggo with Hay. You weren’t happy with the news.”

Harry remembers now. “Oh, yeah. I was fuming.”

“Parents having sex.”

“And thinking the new baby would just, show up and be loved more.”

Louis chuckles. “Then you became such a fan of her, too.”

“I did,” Harry glances at his little sister, a few doors down, smiling fondly. “So has it been botched since then?”

“Think it just like, broke something that then got loose. And it’s been coming and going, and like, a few years ago at a cup match it just completely gave in and. Yeah. Had to be operated. And it still twists quite often. Can’t do much running anymore, really.” Louis sounds wistful, a little sad, a bit angry.

“You mean you… can’t play footie anymore?” Harry starts cautiously. For as long as he’s known Louis, which is a long time, football has always been his absolute passion. Like his fifth limb. The idea of Louis, dickhead as he is, having lost something so important, makes Harry feel very sorry for him.

“Nah,” Louis tries to sound cheerful, “not like I used to, at least. I can still do like a bit, I coach kids and stuff, but not like… I’ll never play at Old Trafford, let’s put it that way.” He chuckles to himself. “Not that it was very realistic to start with.”

“Come on, Louis. You’re fucking amazing at footie.”

 “I wasn’t fucking amazing. I was just better than you.” Louis is quiet for a bit, and then adds as an afterthought. “But thanks.”

“What are you going to do now?”

Louis shrugs as best as he can, with his other shoulder being draped over Harry’s. “Don’t know. Sports was the one thing I had. We can’t all be super smart like you, Styley.”

“I’m not… I’m not super smart.”

“Smarter than most. In your fancy school and all.”

“It’s not… I don’t think I’m smarter than others. Or better than others. I just… Guess I just care about different stuff than most.” Harry pushes his glasses up on his nose again.

“Yeah, mum loves to tell me all about it. How well you’re doing. How proud your parents are. Which, don’t get me wrong,” Louis rushes to add, “they should be. I’m glad you’re doing well.”

Harry feels himself blushing, for some weird reason. “Your mum tells you stuff? About me, I mean.” There’s something that warms him about the thought; that Louis at least doesn’t tell his mum to shut up when she mentions Harry’s name. The thought also makes Harry feel a bit guilty, petty beyond what’s normal. He decides to tell his mum that she can actually mention Louis’ name, occasionally, from now on.

“She does,” Louis nods. “Sometimes I ask her. Not to like, hope you’re doing shit, I just… want to keep track. Know you’re doing okay. We grew up together, you were my best friend.”

Whilst Harry does consider himself a bit more mature than others of his age, he is also – or hence – painfully aware of how his brain works. He tries very hard to be very good, and when he feels guilty or disappointed in himself, his first go-to approach is attack.

“We were. Until you decided it wasn’t worth it anymore,” he huffs under his breath.

Of course Louis hears it. He stops his hopping and lets go of Harry, leaning onto his good leg, searching for his balance. “Excuse me?”

“What? You know what I mean.”

Louis laughs dryly, with no humour. “No, actually, I really fucking don’t.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Oh come the fuck on. You know what happened. You bloody started it!”

Louis is shaking his head. “No, nope. You can’t pin this on me. It was you that one day just stopped fucking talking to me.”

“Yeah, and for a good reason! Reasons, actually.”

“Yet you never gave me any of them. You stopped talking to me, refused to answer calls or messages, told your parents to lie you were never in, and then one day you didn’t come to school.”

“Well you were happy to go along with it! Who does that, just gives up, if you knew you’d done nothing wrong?” Harry can hear his voice rise the longer he speaks.

Louis lets out an exasperated gasp, then he looks at Harry and his eyes are gleaming. “What the fuck? I spend weeks trying to talk to you! How long should I have gone on? You made it really fucking clear you wanted _nothing_ to do with me, and I tried, but you made everything fucking pointless.”

“I’m telling mum you’re swearing!” One of the twins interrupts them from a distance.

“Sorry!” Harry and Louis yell in unison.

“We want money for each swear word and we won’t tell mum.”

“ _So_ related to you,” Harry tells Louis as Louis yells the twins they’ll get five quid if they stop listening and keep shtum from mum.

 “Look, Harry, I…” Louis turns his attention back to Harry. “I honestly, swear to God, have no idea what happened to us. But it’s obvious you don’t want to talk about it as much now as you didn’t back then, and it’s… Shit, it sucks, but nothing I can do about it. Just don’t… Don’t blame me for stuff that I didn’t do. I swear I can’t think of one time I’ve done you wrong.”

Harry hears there’s pleading in Louis’ voice, as he’s standing in front of him, hovering, looking like his leg that he’s supporting himself on is giving out, getting tired.

Harry tries to speed replay the past three years and the events of that one night that was the final straw. He tries to find a moment to grasp on, something that would be clear evidence of Louis knowing exactly what he did, knowing what he _didn’t_ do. Harry tries to evidence in Louis’s later actions proving that he was a malicious, awful person who just purposefully wanted to break Harry’s heart.

But he can’t. He’s standing there, feeling chilly to his bones in the late October night, on a dark street with flickering street lights, on hard concrete paved with slippery fallen leaves, and somehow, as he exhales, he feels like he’s letting go of the bitterness, the anger and worst, the _hurt._

“You didn’t answer to my letter,” he finally mumbles. “And then you kissed her.”

Louis raises his eyebrows. “What letter? And kissed who?”

“You know,” Harry shrugs. “Laura Linson.”

Louis looks puzzled. “When did I… Oh.” It then seems to dawn to him. “At that party over at Stan’s.”

“Yup,” Harry pops the p.

“But you weren’t…” Louis is racking his brain. “You weren’t there. You were home, you didn’t come.”

“Oh, I came. Decided to come after all, and then I walked in, and there you were. Eating her tongue.”

Louis laughs and for once it sounds sincere. “I wasn’t _eating her tongue_. It was a snog, everyone was doing it. I’m sure you snogged someone at that party.”

“I obviously didn’t stay there after I saw you two.”

Louis nods. “But like… Why? You could’ve just told me if you fancied her.”

“I didn’t fancy _her_ ,” Harry whispers. “You knew. And you never said anything. And you went and kissed her instead.”

“Knew what?” Louis looks so fucking confused, Harry kind of wants to… He’s not sure. Hug him. Slap him. Tackle him.

“You know,” Harry mutters. “You read my letter.”

“I’ve never gotten a letter from you.”

“It was more like a note.”

“Okay, then, I’ve never gotten a note from you I didn’t reply to. And definitely not about anything what this is sounding to be like.”

“You never said anything.”

“Of course I didn’t!” Louis runs his fingers through his hair, exhausted. “How can I comment on something that I never got? Use your brain, Harry.”

That’s rich. Clearly Harry isn’t the one functioning on limited brain capacity here. “I left you a note, dropped it through the post box, I wrote it in like… secret language and all, and you never reacted to it and…”

Louis suddenly puts his hand on Harry’s forearm, as if to stop him. “Wait, what? Secret language?”

“Yeh,” Harry nods, “like one is a, two is b, three is c and so on.”

“So just a note full of numbers?”

“I guess,” Harry shrugs, looking to the ground and smudging some leaves into a pile with the tip of his shoe. “Think it had like, unicorns on it. Stole it from Hay.”

“I remember now,” Louis finally says slowly. “I never saw it arrive, it was pinned on the notice board for a few days and none of us knew what it was, and I didn’t… Mum just threw it out, eventually, when no one had any idea about it. I had no idea it was from you.”

Harry is pretty sure all air vanishes from his lungs. Louis stares at him stunned, in awe, of either how stupid Harry is or because the situation is unrevealing itself in front of his eyes.

“Oh shit,” Harry groans and rubs his eyes with the heels of his palms. “Shit fuck hell.”

“I heard that! Now you have to pay me!” Hazel shrieks.

“Stop listening!” Louis yells at her, kinder than to his own sisters, but sounding stern anyway. The girls giggle and carry on listening intensely. “Harry, you okay?” Louis then turns back to Harry, who’s stomping his feet to the ground and groaning, like the mature human he is.

“Shit, I can’t believe… I was so dumb, of course you didn’t, you wouldn’t…. Shit. Shitshitshit.”

Louis chuckles despite himself, squeezing Harry’s arm. “You were a bit of a twat then, weren’t you?” He gently wraps his fingers around Harry’s wrists and pulls his hands away from his eyes, making Harry look at him.

“I was,” Harry nods quietly. “A lot of a twat.”

“Yeh.”

“I, uhm, sorry. I’m sorry.”

“You literally threw away like, what, 14 years of being friends for a misunderstanding? That’s a bit dramatic, don’t you reckon?”

“Yeah,” Harry looks to the ground, feeling his cheeks burn bright red with how utterly embarrassed he is.

“Very you, then,” Louis offers good-humouredly, causing Harry to huff, not unpleasantly. “So… I guess your note was, ahm, a bit… personal?”

Harry nods and pushes his glasses up his nose, lifting his eyes to look at Louis’. “I, uhm, I wouldn’t have been so… _dramatic_ if it wasn’t. I thought you had read it and just didn’t give a toss, or hated me, and then I saw you kiss that girl, and…”

“Jumped into conclusions.”

“I was hurt, okay! I thought you’d just broken my heart on purpose and like, told everyone, and everyone would know and hate me and…yeah.”

“Good thing you never asked me,” Louis winks.

“How could I have! I was absolutely mortified. Wishing the ground would swallow me. I was so _hurt_ , you have no idea, and I was scared, and angry, but most of it was just. Like, you’ve never had your heart broken, you don’t know how it fucking kills you.”

It’s quiet for a few moments. “I’ve had my heart broken,” Louis then says seriously.

“Oh.” Harry is a bit taken aback. Of course, he hasn’t spoken with Louis for years, of course he’s had things happen to him that Harry has no idea about.

“ _You_ broke my heart when you stopped talking to me. Suddenly you just… weren’t my best friend any more, and it was so bloody hopeless, trying to figure out what I’d done, but you didn’t want to know about me.” Louis says and it’s almost as if his voice cracks.

Harry swallows a few times, feeling shittier every second. “Uhm. Well. I guess… When you put it that way, it does sort of seem like… maybe I wasn’t brilliant about it.”

“Maybe not.”

“Good, great,” Harry nods tightly as he has no idea what the bloody else he’s supposed to do.

“What did the note say?” Louis look at him curiously as he wraps his hand around Harry’s shoulder again, nodding to suggest they start moving again.

Harry blushes. “Just, uhm, that, you know. Ifanciedyouandwonderedifmaybeyoufeltthesameandifyouwantedtomaybegoonadateandnottothatparty.” It comes out rushed, muffled, a bit shrill.

Louis laughs and it sounds so light, so bright. “Next time, maybe like… Use actual English and make sure I get it?”

“What would you say?” Harry asks before he can stop himself.

“Did you know Laura Linson fancied you?” Louis asks instead, as if he didn’t hear Harry’s question.

“What? You’re joking.”

 “Nope,” Louis looks devious and a bit proud of himself. “I heard her talking to some girls in the party that she fancied you, and I thought that was bullshit, as if she’d ever deserve you, and then I went and kissed her.”

Harry can’t help but poke Louis’ side with his finger. “You were jealous! Were you jealous?”

“I sure was,” Louis says with no shame. “And I mean. Of course I’d say yes if you sent me another note.”

They look at each other and smile, secretively, like this grey October night might have a little bit of magic and sparkle in the air.

Harry breaks the silence. “Alright, that hopping is silly. Hop on.” He kneels down a bit.

Louis stares at him, unsure what Harry’s up to.

“Come on, then,” Harry gestures on his back. “We’ll never be home before the girls have eaten all their candy and left us nothing, if we keep at this pace.”

Louis starts smiling as he gets what Harry means. He climbs on Harry’s back, heavier than Harry would’ve thought.

“And your outfit is missing glasses. You should take mine.”

Louis takes Harry’s glasses off his face very softly and carefully, and puts them on. It’s a little blurry, but he’s never seen anything clearer.  

 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are the best treats x


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